[color=teal][h2]Uril Miller[/h2][/color]

There wasn’t much that stopped Uril’s good moods. He was watching the fresh faces introduce themselves to the old ones. [color=teal]Old and covered in scales[/color], thought Uril, as he saw Olin’s hide walking on the promenade, bantering with some partner. Uril’s bee rested calmly on his shoulder: though the air was a bit chill in this big chamber, the amount of people bustling to and fro simulated warmth. The bee’s wings only shuddered from time to time: Uril would have to take him to the tropic biodome for a short period today, as a treat. Luckily the bee was never over stimulated by crowds, and it was able to remain poised. It would be terrible to cause a panic for new students, making them imagine the station had a giant bee infestation.

It was warm, in a way. Everyone was being welcomed aboard the station, and although many were queasy, they would be adapting quickly enough. They had artificial gravity to thank for that, though Uril doubted anyone but the most bookish types knew who had invented it. Last year the labs handed out special nausea medicine to the newly orbiting folk: however it had the unexpected result of many green-haired freshman. Since it wasn't conducive to fitting in, the medicine was scrapped, and now the students had to find their “sea legs” on their own.

[color=teal]“You’ve just stepped out of a rocket that was based on another rocket, which was designed by a man who built rockets for the German fascists to try to irradiate the entire British isles with! How do you feel kid?”[/color] Uril patted a young girl with vibrant hair on the back handily. [color=teal]”Someday I’ll fly down on one of those rockets, and I’ll hope they didn’t just strap a carseat onto a warhead for me! Hahaha!”[/color] Uril felt like the first mate of the Promise for a few moments, rather proud of his own ability to be merry. He spotted some men in suits with long weapons, tranquilizer rifles, standing in the shade on a mezzanine. One even had a tazer spear with him. [color=teal]Well trained men…[/color] Uril thought. Not to be challenged, and they stood up there declaring it with their gaze. They were there to escort a dangerous case meta-human, one who had wanted to see the new arrivals but who was too much of a risk to themselves and others to visit unguarded. It was someone a good deal smaller than their surrounding Promise militant police, and sealed away inside a hazmat suit. For a moment Uril thought he could feel their eye contact, because while he gazed up at them the whole station seemed to be gliding over earth just a little more slowly.

Uril stood tall, and as time caught back up to regular pace, the giant bumble bee crawled onto the crown of his head and seemed to scout for him. [color=teal]”There’s all this view from up in space, but what’s everyone really looking for?”[/color] Uril projected his thought into speech unknowingly.